Binkie For The Babysitter
by wormquake
Summary: "The entire situation unfolded rather quickly, like everything else, out of nowhere. So, of course, there were no research opportunities, and he'd rather be dead than to be caught looking up "how to give a proper blowjob" on his computer." Cuddles gets face-fucked a little too hard. (reuploaded to from a03)


It was an innocent babysitting job, really, it was.

Was.

Because now, he's sitting here, on his knees, about to take Pop's dick in his mouth. And he's not going to lie to himself: it's pretty hot.

You could easily call the situation pitiful. Possibly it was, to be using this babysitting as an advantage to visit your "crush" often. It wasn't like that at first, he swears, originally doing it for the money, then for spending time with the kid he bonded with, and only eventually doing it to get close to Pop. That was truly it.

Cuddles barely could handle the situation. Before this, he never considered himself gay. Gay, bi, whatever. There was no question about it, he liked women.

It seemed like overnight that this happened. Suddenly, the small rubs on the back turned from friendly, to weird, to completely flustering. Same with the humble head pats and childish shoulder grabs. All of it must have happened in a day, because he couldn't pinpoint when the feelings started to appear. Some domino effect, maybe, that was all he could find to explain what started it to grow into this awful feeling in his chest.

Especially now he was flushed. It was a completely embarrassing angle of him from Pop's perspective. Though, due to the way he sat confidently, his hand settled into Cuddles' blonde locks, Cuddles realized that Pop possibly felt that this was all perfect and arousing. The way Pop's fingers twirled onto pieces of stray bang that held Cuddles up with ease just made his body shake. He's sure it's obvious, too.

There was this smirking look on his face. Pop himself was always sort of… big. He had a lumbering beer-belly and was actually a bit taller than Cuddles, as well as, well, "wider" and older than him.

However the way he presented himself as completely dominant over the situation made Cuddles feel even smaller. Almost like a dog, he couldn't tell whether he was about to be called a "good boy" or is about to have his nose shoved into the carpet for pissing on it.

Pop said something that Cuddles couldn't catch, only making him look up nervously, not even noticing his eyes were drifting to the floor.

"H-huh?"

"Are 'ya ready?"

Cuddles opened his mouth just a tad to speak, but the words wouldn't come out, making him shut his mouth hastily and nod, biting his lip as he tried to mull over his own feelings.

"I guess 'ya don't really talk much for these things, huh boy?" Pop's voice was pretty loud, almost booming in his ears as he drew out the question. Maybe it was just in comparison to his own, quiet voice that made Cuddles tremble a bit.

"Y-yeah… W-well, no! Actually, I-I have no idea what to do…"

He wanted to put his face in his hands to hide himself. This was completely unlike him. Usually, even in the weirdest situations, he knew how to fake being extremely confident, or at least confident enough to get through things like this.

Any time he actually managed to build up confidence, the way Pop would raise his brow at what he's doing or chuckle in just that way, it'd make him fall all over again.

Swallowing harshly, he scooted himself closer, trying to make the tight grip between his hair and Pop's fist loose, while at the same time, trying to ease the weird tension he had. He was supposed to be as close as possible for things like this, right?

The entire situation unfolded rather quickly, like everything else, out of nowhere. So, of course, there were no research opportunities, and he'd rather be dead than to be caught looking up "how to give a proper blowjob" on his computer.

He's thought about all of this before, embarrassingly enough, so it should be possible to fake it, right? With the girls he's seen doing it, they were so confident. Yeah, porn is a sham, but it can't be that hard. Their jobs are to give the best blowjobs in the world! Like with learning how to ride a bike, once you know, you never forget!

Again, he was drawn out of his thoughts. This time, instead of a voice, it was the creaking of the leather chair Pop sat in, sitting up and adjusting himself for Cuddles. It seemed like Pop wasn't the patient type, and so Cuddles' nerves fired up again.

The pressure he barely released from his scalp came back as his head was suddenly tipped up, almost gasping at the movement, as the tip of Pop's cock was placed against his lips, gently brushing them. Cuddles' eyes went wide before he blinked rapidly, taking the entire situation in one breath and one look as he finally closed his eyes, opening his mouth slightly for the head of his dick to fit inside.

He couldn't even breathe or open his eyes for a moment as he sat there, stunned. All he could do was hum in discomfort, rubbing his tongue onto the tip as his hands shakily gripped the base, gently trying to keep everything steady.

His spit immediately went to travel to the slit of his dick, covering it completely as he finally managed to open his eyes. The flush on his cheeks started to calm down just a bit, still making his pale face pink, which by the smile on Pop's face, he seemed to enjoy the entertainment.

Taking a deep breath, Cuddles found the taste settling into his taste buds. Pop's cock head tasted salty, a bit bitter and sweaty, but also kind of good, which made him completely conflicted. Mostly because it tasted exactly how he imagined Pop's dick would, in the rare times he let his mind go that far before shutting it down.

"Is somethin' wrong, boy?"

Pop almost sounded concerned for a minute. Quickly, Cuddles tried to speak, only humming and almost choking on his own spit. He was going to mess this up if he kept stalling, and of course, he was thankful to even get this far, so there was no time for regret.

Since he couldn't find his voice, actions were apparently the only thing he could express himself with. Mustering up some courage, his thumbs rubbed at the base as he took in just a bit more. Not much, but enough for Pop to know there was still interest.

Not even halfway. That was pathetic of him, actually. Then again, Pop was pretty big. How did Pop not have a girlfriend? Well, boyfriend, Cuddles guesses. His personality wasn't bad either, seeing as it charmed Cuddles into being so deviant.

Pop was certainly good at easing people into things. He doesn't even remember how he got here, which was a good example. Of course, Pop was also irresponsible at points, and a bit on the dumb side, but didn't that make him even more charming? You kinda just wanted to laugh with him, not at him.

The musk of him set in further and further as he started to bob repeatedly, humming and slathering spit onto him. It felt as if he was watching himself perform in the third person, watching as the spit ran down from the head to the base, finding itself pitted into the light-brown pubes of his partner.

Pop smelled like alcohol. Whiskey, smoke, and maybe a fresh pint of beer. Of course, he smelled excessively like old and new sweat, but perhaps because he was close to his… most private parts, and he looked a bit unshaven. Such bad timing, too, as Cuddles felt that this fact made him evenmore attractive.

The smoke was due to the pipe he was smoking even now. Out of the corner of his eye, Cuddles could see his toes curl and uncurl, stretching out as his head once more was received with a pat. Pop was relaxing, like he was watching the news after a hard day, or something. How perverse it was, to act like this wasn't going on at all.

He has that kind smile that sent waves down to Cuddles. Even paying that little attention, when he can obviously be doing anything else, it made his heart swirl. Golly, it just made him want to perform even better.

Cuddles' hand jerked off slowly with the lubricant at the base. His thumb skimmed over any imperfections, making Pop groan happily with a chuckle as He gently urged Cuddles to go further down with his mouth. . Ugh, silly him, he can't avoid it, can he?

Hollowing out his cheeks like he's seen before in all those movies, he took a breathe through his nose as he urged himself to bob fully, covering more and more base. He can't make it more than a third of the way down, but he hopes the movement of his mouth was good enough.

And it did, finding himself stirred with butterflies as he heard Pop moan out a "good boy," taking his pipe out of his mouth and putting it down, letting it go out and everything.

Pop's fingers pulled back hair as Cuddles continued. Cuddles found the sensation of his rough fingers on his sweaty forehead ticklish, sparking jolts from his head to his back. Any touches right now made him jump.

Finding breathing getting harder and harder, Cuddles managed to pull himself off for just a second, breathing heavily as he licked the cock with his tongue, looking up with the sluttiest face he could manage.

Some evil part of him didn't want Pop to relax. The small bits of attention he was getting fueled him even more, and that devious, slutty part of him that got him into this mess pulled at his strings, almost commanding him to go further and meaner.

"D-Daddy," He found himself moaning, stuttering, completely trying to change his attitude from earlier, doing his damn hardest to be sexy and impressive. "Are-are you enjoying this, Daddy~?"

Cuddles couldn't even believe how he sounded. His own voice was completely confusing. It sounded fake, but it came out of him. It had to be real! Everything about this bridged the line of fake and real, and it just confused his mind further.

Pop replied back with a purr, almost roar of pleasure, Cuddles even feeling the vibration from all the way down.

"Daddy likes it, Daddy likes it lots."

There was this laugh of his that looped him back into it again. The line elsewhere would be so cringy and stupid, but because it's him, and because it's now, it sounded like everything he needed and has ever wanted.

And, wow, him calling himself 'Daddy'? How cocky of him. How arousing. It was like he knew how much power he had and how much of a God he was to Cuddles in this moment and he was doing everything he could to keep it that way: low at his feet.

"L-let me give you a treat, Daddy…"

His mind was suddenly blurred. It was almost like someone put some sort of spell on him, or something. Earlier he was drought with confidence, and now here he was absolutely flooded with arousal. All he could feel was his hands twitching, finding their place to settle on Pop's thighs, and his warm breath bouncing off of Pop's dick and back to him.

The breath he spewed smelled like dick, and now he thought of the possibility of climbing on Pop's lap, kissing him with the same mouth that worshipped and lavished his cock moments earlier. Would he know? Has he tasted himself before off of other's lips before? If there were more blondies he'd seduced before him, Cuddles wanted to be the best.

He moaned once more, not even doing anything, not even touching himself, but just from the thoughts. Pop has probably fucked other boys just like him before, possibly even less experienced. He can't remember how he himself was seduced, but he could feel himself getting off on the ways Pop trapped them as well. They all fell like some big pile of tipped over dominos, and he was just next in the pattern.

It was confusing why his pants were tenting at the thought of Pop seducing all the other babysitters he's ever had before. Perhaps knowing he isn't special is turning him on in some masochistic way. Maybe it's because he wants to be special. He's craving it, he's craving him.

Maybe he drugged him. Sniffles had experimental drugs, that could be it-no, no, Pop having the money for that? Impossible… Pop wasn't like that at all! He's so nice, and kind, letting him do this… he could barely think. He didn't want to think. He just wanted him in his mouth, that's all.

His body still shook like it was nervous. His senses were fried completely, and his thoughts were somewhere else entirely, daydreaming, wanting to be the whore he could never be. His hands and thumbs digged into the skin on his thighs, making Pop hiss and grit his teeth, twirling his hair with a tighter grip than ever before, pushing Cuddles' smiling face into his cock with a huff.

And Cuddles liked it.

He didn't even realize he was smiling, euphorically in glee over nothing at all. Gosh, he probably looked like some stupid idiot out of context, no wonder Pop was grumpy! He wanted any punishment he should be given, ready for it.

His breath hitched, short, barely breathing pants escaped his mouth as mouth welcomed the tip again, though this time it was rubbed onto the top of his mouth, spreading pre-cum and tickling him from the inside.

Now it was truly getting started. His mind thinks that he was silently, internally wanting this. The impatience to grow, just to be forced down the big dick he'd been hoping for all along.

Cuddles gagged, his mouth and throat still reacting to the pressure like the virgin he was. If he could, he'd moan a thank you. He'd tell Pop how lucky he was to even be here, at his floor, sucking him off.

He couldn't find the strength to breathe. There was no strength at all, his entire body being held up by Pop, going limp and just only being able to shakily feel Pop's hands on his head and the dick settling into pace, and it makes him want to vomit.

It felt good all the same. He'll just have to practice, right? To perfect his gag? Fucking Pop over and over again, making him his, like it rightfully should be, that was the absolute dream. He'd be owned by Pop forever, and the other boys he may or may not have fucked will have to find someone else.

Sloppily, like his arm was asleep, his hand unclenched Pop's thigh, snaking down to his own dick, grabbing it, rubbing it, moaning and creating vibrations onto Pop's cock as he finally let himself indulge his own fantasies.

He could cum just from the look Pop gave him for his one-man-show alone.

There were no jokes anymore, no smiles, no nice touches. None of those sweet head pats or touches on the back. He didn't want that, anyways. Cuddles wanted it rough. If Pop wanted him to be face-fucked so hard he puked, he'd smile while vomiting. If one of Pop's feet suddenly dug into his erection, laughing and tormenting him, he'd take it, too.

His fingers felt fluttery undoing his own belt. Everything felt like he was in a dream. No beginning, no ending, and it all was so magical. He couldn't breathe, and he didn't need too. He just wanted to drown.

There were very few, very quick moments where Pop granted him permission to breathe. They were so heavenly and perfect, Cuddles would say loudly about how amazing he was for even letting him do this, before being slammed back down onto his shaft, choked, gagged, humiliated. Cuddles didn't get much air.

His chest hurt, he could feel it tightening and demanding air, as the little he's gotten didn't satisfy him. Everything felt cold and numb, especially his nose and his fingers, almost like they were cut off from the rest of the circulation in his body. He could only feel the thumping movements of the back of his throat being ruined and becoming sore, but no pain came out of those repetitive strikes.

Drool and saliva dripped out of the open edges of his mouth, covering his chin and lips, he could feel it cascading down what was now the empty shell of himself, covering his chest, dripping down to the floor and making a mess. He wishes that the floor wasn't carpet, so he could lick it up from under his feet.

He couldn't moan anymore, he couldn't do anything, the limited air only being taken in to breathe, his chest hollowing out and painfully accepting the air. It felt good as it burned, his chest urging for this all to stop, hands automatically clawing into Pop's thigh, making him growl and pound him more with anger. He was so focused on basically dying, he had no care about the gag reflex at all.

Even with this feeling of suffocation, his hands shakily undid himself, hand-fucking himself. It was rough, dry friction, but it felt good, his being just craving the sensation of being fucked senselessly, however he knew he didn't deserve it. His position was on the floor, begging, crying. He didn't realize the tears coming down his face, but they were, full form.

Pop's eyes were closed, his moans had been drawn out before due to focusing so much on himself, which Cuddles' curses quietly in his head for missing out on all of them. They all sounded so deep, so happy, so lost in the enjoyment of it all.

There's only one more time where Cuddles is able to breathe, being only partly lifted off, having the shortest breath, no speaking. He moans out this weird sound of pain and pleasure, gasping as much as he could, like he'd been waterboarded and slammed back into the tub of water.

Cuddles' eyes are no longer half-lidded, but open and absorbed in pleasure at some other sort of happiness he can't even explain. All that he knew was that Pop was cumming soon, and wanted absolutely no interruptions.

His hair hurt as it was pulled back and forth, but he didn't care. Neither of them did, all that they could focus on now was both of their individual releases. His bangs were pulled all the way to the roots, and to resist the pain the best he could, he found himself manually bobbing as quickly as he could, tongue and mouth finally finding its way to the bottom of Pop's cock.

Again his chest screamed from the inside, his throat felt warm. Everything felt warm, his nose only full of the smell of smoke and sweat, drowning in it. That mixed with his own saliva, now trapped down into his throat, the only way out clogged completely, it made this feel like dying.

His entire being was yelling. it felt cold, and hot, being practically choked. There was this subconscious need to breathe, everything wanted to breathe, but he ignored it, letting that hot and cold sensation seem into every crevice, tickling his stomach, which was flip-flopping and holding the pit of his orgasm.

He feels so happy. There's this sense of calm in the burning pain and he just feels so happy. Pop was euphoric and that's all that matters, right? His legs want to kick and scream and his head wants to push up for air but, fuck, this feeling of being forced down feels so fucking good, and even if he wanted too, even if Pop wanted too, he wouldn't let it stop, because he just wants to prove how much he loves him.

Pop's thrusts are harder and more erratic. It's gotten so tight in the back of his throat and mind that he can't smell that smoky glaze from his dick anymore, he can't smell him at all, or himself, though, he bets he smells like shit, all covered in sweat and that obvious whiskey smell.

There's tingles up his spine as Pop finally cums and his mind is foggy. His body has goosebumps but they just feel like someone's fingertips or bugs crawling up and down on him, covering him and tickling him completely.

The taste of the cum never sets in. He's heard it's salty but he can't tell because he's too busy focusing on why he can't hear, or smell, or see anymore. His vision is foggy and he can't even see Pop's face anymore, but he bets it's hot and arousing and he has the best orgasm face in the world.

It feels like bees stinging him inside his windpipe as he tries to swallow and nothing comes down. It's so sore and it yearns for water or spit or something but he can't take it because his throat has decided to give up and close up and now he's just suffering, his brain only upset because he can't please Pop.

There's no throwing up like he's felt and wanted to so the cum and spit only fall out his mouth and onto the floor in puddles, now filling Cuddles with a sense of dread and guilt that he couldn't do this properly, that some other cute boy did it better.

But he smiles the best he can as he pulls out, even though he's practically dead, that his throat won't let him breathe again, that he's too far out, and he cums. The dry friction is too much, and he cums, and there's this ringing in his ears and this good feeling and it all feels great. He's being stabbed in his chest and he's dying but it feels great.

And now, and now, he belongs fully to Pop.

"Good boy."

That dread is replaced rather quickly with a sense of happiness that fills Cuddles up entirely, before he passes out in the darkness he so deserves.


End file.
